


drabbles & ficlets

by cumpeachx



Category: Call Me By Your Name (2017), Call Me By Your Name (2017) RPF
Genre: M/M, Random Drabbles, Smut and Fluff, mostly charmie, occasional e/o, prompts, small ficlets
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-10
Updated: 2019-10-28
Packaged: 2019-11-14 16:46:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 10,425
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18056291
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cumpeachx/pseuds/cumpeachx
Summary: a collection of prompts/ficlets/drabbles.





	1. messy kisses

“You’re so eager, Timmy,” Armie smiled as he breathed out his words, their hot breath mingling between them. He placed his palm flat against Timmy’s shoulder, pushing back gently in an attempt to create space between their bodies but Timmy was unrelenting as he pushed back, trying to clamber up his lap even more as he straddled him on the couch. Timmy’s eyes were closed and his mouth wide open as he continued to lick and bite at any part of Armie’s mouth, chin, and neck he could reach.

“Tim, baby, slow down,” Armie sighed, still smiling but he pushed back a little harder to make his point clear. Timmy pouted, his eyes fluttering open, his lips red from moisture and friction. He whimpered, somewhat pathetically, desperately, all he wanted was Armie’s mouth and tongue and body against his. He grinded his ass down against Armie’s lap to make his own point.

“Fuck,” Armie growled, low and needy. He cupped Timmy’s chin with both hands, using his thumbs to swipe away some of the salvia that had collected in the corners of his mouth and under his bottom lip. 

The first time they had made out, it was messy, but they had both been drunk and desperate with mutual need. The second time they were just pent up and horny. This was their third time and it was hot and heavy, but Armie was starting to realize that Timmy was always a messy kisser, no matter the circumstance.

“Have you always been like this?” Armie asked, his voice gentle, endeared. Even though it was sloppy, it was still Timmy, after all. 

Timmy nuzzled into Armie’s neck, breathing in his scent before he nibbled his way up to his ear lobe. He licked the flesh and Armie keened, his breath hitching as he tried to keep his focus.

“Timmy,” Armie shifted, pulling his head to the side away from Timmy’s mouth. With a frustrated sigh, Timmy placed his hands on top of Armie’s shoulders and sat back. 

“Like _what_ , Armie?” he asked, his tone biting and frustrated but Armie loved it. He could see how hard Timmy was, knew how badly he wanted the inevitable; his cock buried so far inside of him that they become one being. His green eyes were questioning, searching for answers to the question he didn’t understand and Armie smoothed a hand over some of the ruffled curls against his temple. 

“How many people have you kissed? Like, really kissed?” 

Armie’s question seemed to catch Timmy off guard. An array of emotions seemed to cross his face; confusion, frustration, anger, until finally his eyebrows settled on embarrassment. He flushed pink and sat further back, dragging his fingers over his worried bottom lip. 

“Why?” Timmy asked, his voice small and shaky. “Is it…am I not good at it? Am I doing it wrong?” He started to slide off of Armie’s lap in defeat but strong hands locked onto his bare waist. 

“No, no, no,” Armie shook his head, bringing Timmy’s dropping chin up with his fingers. He waited until their eyes were locked in again. 

“There could never be anything wrong about you, Timothée Chalamet.” Armie meant it and Timmy believed him. He blushed for a far different reason now. Armie took a moment to appreciate the beauty of Timmy’s vulnerability before speaking again. 

“Sometimes things are worth savoring, you know?” Armie sat up higher, hooking a long arm entirely around Timmy’s waist and pulling him back in so there was hardly any distance between them again. He lifted a hand to tangle his fingers into soft brown curls. 

“Let me show you,” Armie whispered, his mouth only partially opened as he slowly leaned in. “Just follow my lead.” 

Armie pressed his lips against Timmy’s softly, holding his bottom lip between his for a moment while the tip of his tongue faintly trailed the delicate skin. He could feel Timmy tense against him so he pressed in more firmly, his hand now running a soothing trail up his spine and then dipping back down to his lower back where his underwear were hanging low on his hips. He tightened his fist of curls, rocking his hips to move their bodies and slowly guide the kiss as he eased their tongues together. 

The kiss was languid and slow, indescribably soft, and better than any kiss either of them had ever experienced. When they pulled away, they were both breathless. Timmy was still blushing when Armie looked up at him. 

“Savored?” he asked, impatience clear in his smiling face. Armie nodded his affirmation. 

“Savored.”

They both laughed before Timmy dived right back in with his mouth open, desperation, impatience, and messy kisses and all. Armie loved every second of it.


	2. valentine's day

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> just to be clear - none of this are associated with any of my other work. there's no plot, just one off little tidbits and scenes that come to mind when gifted a prompt or whatever.  
> all fiction!

“Asshole,” Timmy muttered under his breath, throwing his phone down to the end of his bed where it landed with a thump against his bunched up comforter. No text, no call, not even a damn email. He crossed his arms over his chest and huffed out a frustrated sigh.

Valentine’s Day was overrated, sure, but there was still part of him that had hoped Armie would have at least acknowledged his existence on the “day of love.”

By way of distraction, Timmy did whatever he could. He invited a few single friends over in the late afternoon. They got day drunk, they danced, they ate way too much take out while watching the goriest horror movie Netflix had to offer. By the time nine o’clock rolled around, the last of his friends had stumbled out and he was back in bed, staring grumpily at the end of his mattress where he’d lobbed his phone, still waiting. Waiting, waiting, waiting.

Sometime after his revenge jerk off session (which took longer than anticipated because coming when you're still kind of drunk is difficult), there was a knock on his apartment door. Timmy pulled his jeans on, looking around momentarily for his underwear before he remembered that he’d just come inside of them and they now lay used up on the floor of his bedroom. He shrugged carelessly, deciding to go commando, then shuffled to answer the door.

It was a delivery man and for a second he wondered if Armie had sent him some ridiculous singing telegram but after signing and confirming his name, he walked back in with a ridiculously heavy plain brown box.

He grunted as he hoisted it onto the table in his kitchen and scratched through his curls as he pulled the note off the top. Timmy recognized Armie’s impeccable penmanship and immediately his heart started to pound against his rib cage.

_Timmy,_

_Sorry I couldn’t be with you today. I miss you. I hope this makes up for my absence. I thought these would keep you busy until I get to NYC in a few days._

_P.S Happy Valentine’s Day._

“Asshole,” Timmy choked out with a smile, staring down into the box he’d just tore open. It was filled to the top with fresh peaches.


	3. kiss cam

“Arrrmiiee,” Timmy blushes, pulling down the bill of his brown cap. Armie rolls his eyes, his neck is turning red.

“Just give it a minute. They’ll let up.”

The camera hasn’t panned away from them and it’s only been twenty seconds yet it feels like eternity.

Timmy’s face is burning hot, cheeks flushed and he’s pathetically trying to hide under his Brentwood cap but he’s all teeth and smiles underneath.

The crowd yells louder. Someone a few rows back yells, “Just fucking do it already, fuck!”

Armie wonders if it’s possible to have a coronary from embarrassment.

A steady chant builds around them.

Kiss! Kiss! Kiss! (Kiss, you pussies!) Kiss!

“Well, fuck.” Armie swallows and looks to his right, eyes on Timmy.

Even though there’s hundreds of eyes on them, Timmy only feels Armie on his skin, all over his body. He tilts his head and green meets blue as he peeks from under his cap.

“Armie, we can’t…”

“Why the fuck not? We have before. Fuck it.”

Timmy rolls his eyes, a wiry, nervous laugh falls from his mouth. He can’t take his eyes off Armie’s lips. It’s been so long…

“Fuck it?”

“Fuck it.”

Armie pulls Timmy’s cap off, unleashes the wild curls underneath. They’re both laughing, smiling. The crowd is already whooping, losing their minds.

Armie moves in and before he can open his mouth, Timmy goes full Elio and licks over his mouth.

“You little shit,” Armie smirks.

Timmy smiles as they reunite their mouths for the first time since filming wrapped. It’s soft, it’s delicate, it’s a goddamn homecoming.

They kiss longer than necessary, with way more tongue than they should and it’s messy and happy, they can’t stop smiling and when they pull away they’re laughing and wiping their mouths and secretly wishing for more as they catch their breath.

The kiss cam finally pans away and Armie looks over at Timmy, shaking his head.

“Now I know why you dragged me to this fucking basketball game.”

Timmy smiles, tongue between teeth, hides under his Brentwood cap.

"Maybe." (Definitely.)


	4. where do you go every night, elio?

This is the third time in a week that Oliver has woken up in the middle of the night to an empty bed. He lays in silence while the cool summer air blankets around his naked body, warming his skin but not the ache in his gut. He tries so desperately not to wonder, _where is Elio?_

Oliver thinks of all the men and women, all of the romances Elio has had over the years, all they time they were apart because _why wouldn’t_ Elio love so many others? And _who wouldn’t_ fall in love with Elio?

Elio has only ever been deserving of love.

Still, it aches him to the bone with worry; jealousy, shame. Oliver can’t believe his own mind for betraying him, let alone to consider that Elio ever would. The air feels stagnant and heavy. Oliver knows sleep is pointless, guilt is inevitable. The floorboard creaks and slowly the door pushes open. A fully clothed Elio slips into the room, undresses while Oliver pretends to be asleep. There’s only half a moment of silence while Elio entangles their limbs as usual.

“Oliver, you’re awake?”

“How did you know?”

“Your heart is pounding in my ear.”

Oliver can’t help but laugh, his own body has betrayed him.

“What is it?” Elio keeps his voice low but Oliver can sense the twinge of worry.

Oliver, unwilling to lie, not after all these years, speaks only the hardest truths.

“Where do you go every night, Elio? Do you see anyone?”

There is so much silence in the room that Oliver is sure he might suffocate. His heart pounds harder.

Elio is just a silhouette in the darkness but even so, Oliver can see the amusement on his face, the compassion, the understanding.

“Il mio amore,” Elio sighs, running his fingers over Oliver’s hips, his stomach, his chest. He flattens his palm over Oliver’s vibrating chest, suppressing the pounding heart beneath his skin.

“There is only you. There is only ever you, Oliver.”

Oliver hums, blue eyes a shimmer in the dark. Elio rests his head on his broad shoulder, letting his lips flutter against warm skin as he explains;

“Every summer and winter you weren’t here with me; I still talked to you. I’d find the places you left the deepest impressions on my soul and I’d tell you everything about my life. It became a way to bear all forms of pain and happiness, love and loss. People in my life seem to come a go so freely but you, even just the memory of you, have always been permanent. I created my own Oliver, that existed in only those spots, only for me.”

Oliver thought of the berm, Heaven, the beach, and all the other places that had never left him. He’d created an Elio of his own in all these places as well, only his were imprinted in his heart and memory. Until now.

“Tonight I had to say goodbye to that version of you, goodbye to those places. I tucked them away into beautiful memories of the past. I don’t need them anymore.”

Oliver felt his heart continue to pound in his chest but the rhythm had altered, a smile on his lips.

“I have you, all of you, all my own.”

“Oliver," Blue eyes smile.

A soft laugh, green eyes nod in return, “Elio.”


	5. mini vet tech au pt. 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> prompt: Armie brings Archie to the vet and meets a cute tech
> 
> this is for ashleymoshow!
> 
> disclaimer: i know nothing about the veterinary field so if anything is incorrect... sorry!
> 
> fiction n stuff.

Armie was nearly frantic as he cradled Archie in his arms, the puppy’s snout resting in the crook of his elbow, whimpering gently but tail still wagging with optimistic enthusiasm. Armie had rushed to his car, barely managing to get properly dressed and simply threw on a shirt with a hole in the armpit and shoes that he didn’t bother to tie.

“I think he might have broken his leg,” Armie explained to the young woman at reception, clutching his dog tighter against his chest. The woman was kind and understanding but it was busy for a Saturday morning and his friend, who ran the clinic and who he had called on the way over, had promised to be available as soon as he arrived. 

Apparently, that wasn’t the case.

“Dr. Franklin told me you were on your way and he said to apologize but he’s wrapped up in an emergency with another patient. ” 

Armie tried not to look too disappointed. He’d never been responsible for a pet before and he felt very protective over who would be providing care for the tiny, furry, wonderful new addition to his life.

It had been love at first sight when he adopted Archie three weeks ago. He took his new responsibility very seriously, even taking a week vacation from work just to make ensure that the transition for the pup was as comfortable as possible. It didn’t take long for their bond to form; early morning jogs to the dog park a mile from the house, sharing breakfast outside on the patio. They played fetch in the front yard while the back was being renovated but that was what led to their visit now; Archie had been running amok, crossing over into lawns that he shouldn’t and his neighbor, Paul, who had been “landscaping” for two years now, was two houses down. Archie never saw the pile of dirt next to the hole that was meant to home a koi pond eventually. Pretentious asshole. 

“We have a new vet technician on call this weekend. He should be here within the next fifteen minutes so go ahead and wait in room three. I’ll send Timmy directly to you when he’s here.”

“Timmy?” Armie cocked an eyebrow, worried.

The nurse blushed and giggled, throwing a palm against her cheek. “Oh, I’m so sorry. Mr. Chalamet. I’ll send Mr. Chalamet directly to you.” She offered Archie a few extra veggie dog biscuits to compensate for her fluster. 

\---

Mr. Chalamet, or _Timmy_ , was forty-five minutes late.

Armie had walked in and out of the room five times to bother the receptionist about it and on the fifth time, Archie still cradled closely in his arms, someone came stumbling through the front doors in a rush. The guy was a blur of limbs as his messenger bag slipped from his shoulder and onto the floor. He was attempting to button up a white lab coat but the buttons were uneven, so one side hung lower at his knees. Armie squinted to read the name on the breast pocket but he had already guessed it. _Chalamet._ Great.

The receptionist behind the front desk stood up, the chair she was sitting on rolling back and hitting the small table behind her because of how quickly she’d moved. She fluffed her hair and smiled a little too wide. Armie rolled his eyes.

“Timmy! You’re here!” 

Chalamet’s head shot up from where he had been bent down in an attempt grab the strap of his messenger bag from the linoleum floor and despite every ounce of annoyance that was coursing through Armie’s body, he felt a small breath of air puff from his lungs suddenly. Chalamet walked over to where the receptionist was still standing and Armie continued to watch the exchange between them with mild interest, and heavy irritation. 

“I’m so, so, _so_ sorry I’m late. I thought I could take a shortcut to get here but let me tell you, that was _not_ a short cut. Then I got pulled over because apparently I have no self awareness of speed limits when I’m worried about animals and, shit. I _cannot_ talk my way out of a ticket. I think the officer would have fined me more if he could have just because I couldn’t shut the fuck up,” he winced, realizing he was being unprofessional. Despite himself, Armie smirked. Chalamet was talking so fast that Armie almost felt bad for the guy and if his dog wasn’t in immediate need, he might have found it cute.

The receptionist looked uncomfortable and she nodded warningly towards Armie. That was when Chalamet looked up and directly into Armie’s eyes and that same breath of air that had fleeted his lungs earlier fell once again from his slightly agape mouth. 

Only one thought crossed his mind; green. fucking. Eyes.

“Um, this is Archie, and his owner, Mr. Hammer. Dr. Franklin’s close friend…” The receptionist started to introduce. Timmy looked apologetically at Armie for half a second before he was nose-against-snout, petting Archie lovingly. Archie was desperately trying to wiggle his way out of Armie’s hold and over to Timmy, who was cooing and praising him, letting Archie lick every inch of his freckled face, bright smile and wheezy laugh. Armie just stared in awe. He knew he should have found a sweater to put over his holey t-shirt, maybe even tied his shoes.

“Aren’t you the curliest, cutest thing that I’ve ever seen in the world,” Chalamet muttered between aggressive licks to the cheek and over his nose. Armie couldn’t agree more but he wasn’t thinking about Archie. Time was momentarily lost by the affection that was transpiring but finally, Armie cleared his throat.

“So, um, Dr. Chalamet, I think Archie here has -” Armie started but was met with wide, almost offended green eyes.

“Oh, I’m not a vet yet. Just a tech, so Mr. Chalamet is fine,” he scrunched his nose, laughing at himself, shaking his head so the curls he’d tried to maintain behind his ears came flying over his eyes. Armie thought about sweeping them to the side.

“Actually, that’s worse. Just Timmy, please.” He offered out his hand.

“Okay… _Timmy,_ ” Armie shifted Archie in his arms and shook what he could of Timmy’s fingers. They were cold to the touch but his hand felt warm once he let go. “I think Archie might have broken his leg.” Timmy seemed to have picked up on Armie’s tone, his impatience clear and all at once Timmy’s entire demeanor transformed.

“Well, let’s definitely get that looked at. Follow me,” Timmy straightened his coat and led the way back towards the room Armie and Archie had been waiting in previously. Timmy looked over his shoulder, offering a scratch behind Archie’s ear as he walked with his upper body half-turned. 

“I’m sorry for keeping you waiting but the good news is that most of the time situations like this end up less serious than they seem. Usually just a sprain or pulled muscle.” Timmy eyes flickered up to Armie’s and didn’t stray until they had reached the door. Armie cleared his throat again because he had no idea what to say, so he just nodded and looked down at Archie who was _still_ trying to get to Timmy.

Timmy pushed the door open and held open, waiting to follow until Armie and the pup were situated at the examining table. He stood in the door frame and watched carefully until Armie looked over at him questioningly.

“Alright, so I’ll be with you both in about fifteen minutes.” 

Armie’s jaw dropped, his face already contorting into severe annoyance and Timmy threw his head back in amusement. 

“I’m just messing with you,” he laughed. Armie laughed too, and he was certain that as much as he disliked this guy, he also liked him completely.


	6. television romance outtake #1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is an outtake from Television Romance & also an answer to a prompt I received about nipple play.  
> a gift for elementalpea !  
> fiction.

Armie swirled half an index finger in his whiskey, watching hazily as the large square ice cube clanked against the circumference of the frosted glass. He liked his whiskey neat, but Timmy had been overly enthusiastic about making their drinks that Armie didn’t have the heart to tell him he’d made it wrong. Timmy was never wrong where Armie was concerned.

He pulled his finger out and slurped the liquid from his digit, grinning as he felt Timmy watching him from the peripheral. 

“How are you feeling?” Armie asked, running his tongue over his bottom lip, his nostrils flaring as the smoky bite of the booze filled his senses. God, he loved whiskey. 

Timmy slid down under the sheet they were haphazardly covered in, Armie’s knee bent and thigh exposed for breathing room, desperate for cool air. The room was sticky and reeked with sex, smoke, and sweat. Now whiskey. Timmy didn’t seem to mind the heat and he threw his thigh over the top of Armie’s, the side of his knee making contact with his soft cock that was resting against his inner thigh. Timmy raised an eyebrow, now leaning over. He suddenly bit Armie’s shoulder and Armie hissed, his body spasming on reflex. Some of the liquor tilted out of his glass onto Timmy’s bare skin. 

“Like we should fuck again,” Timmy grinned, dragging his fingers through the whiskey dripping down his shoulder, over his collar bone, down his chest and nipple. He was going to wipe it off on the sheet but Armie snatched his wrist, stopping him immediately.

“Don’t waste good whiskey.”

“Mmm,” Timmy hummed, looking down at the liquid that was now collecting in the peach-fuzz hair that circled his nipple. Timmy shrugged carelessly when he looked back over at Armie.

“Then don’t waste it,” Timmy ordered. Armie’s cock twitched and he nodded. Armie turned over to a hip to place his glass on the bedside table but when the cube of ice clanked loudly upon impact, a curious thought crossed his mind. He pinched the cube out with three of his fingers and by the time he turned over, Timmy had kicked off the sheet and was laying flat on his back, splayed out with his hard cock perfectly pink and ready against his belly button.

“Hard already?” Armie whispered, shivering as the ice cube leaked whiskey and condensation down his fingers. “Did I not fuck you well enough the first two times?”

Timmy reached up and gripped Armie’s hair roughly between his fingers, yanking him downward. Armie was pliant under his grasp, his mouth hanging open, ready and willing to do anything Timmy asked of him.

“There’s always room for improvement, Hammer,” Timmy grinned and Armie glowered, his cock coming to life by the minute.  
Armie leaned over, snatching Timmy’s mouthy bottom lip between his teeth. Timmy whined and started to writhe against the mattress. He moved to grab Armie’s hand, wanting to push it down to his cock but stopped when he felt the wetness around Armie’s wrist. Timmy’s eyes darkened when he saw the ice cube and Armie’s lit up with arousal. 

Without a word, Armie pushed Timmy flat on his back again, throwing his long leg over Timmy’s slight waist, straddling him as he flexed his thighs and lowered himself just enough to drag the lining of his ass over his cock. Timmy breathed with his mouth open, his hips jutting upwards for contact, the soft, downy hairs that lined Armie’s crack making him shiver.

“How long do you think you can handle it?” Armie asked, Timmy didn’t need him to explain himself. He hummed thoughtfully.

“Only one way to find out,” Timmy sighed, adjusting himself under Armie to prepare for the burn of ice against his warm body. Armie didn’t wait for him to get comfortable and immediately pressed the corner of the ice cube against Timmy’s already pert and hardened nipple.

“Ahhh,” Timmy breathed, his eyelashes fluttering but not closing. He raised a challenging eyebrow but Armie just watched with quiet interest, keeping the cube steady but rotating it so that the side was now flat and covering the entire circumference of Timmy’s tiny, perfect nipples.

“Does it hurt?” Armie asked curiously after a few minutes, watching as Timmy dragged a hand up his stomach and started to flick a finger over his other nipple, watching as the flesh started to prickle with goosebumps, the bud hardening beneath his fingertips. 

“My cock does,” Timmy answered smugly as if the cold ice wasn’t burning his skin, as if Armie was having no impact on his comfort whatsoever. Armie chuckled, feeling the wetness leak from the tip of Timmy’s cock that he’d manage to wiggle between the base of his cheeks.

“I want to fuck you, Armie,” Timmy sighed, his body squirming between the grip of Armie’s thighs and despite his calm expression, Armie new the cold was getting to him. Armie smiled under the illusion that he was in control.

“You just want me to stop.” Armie started to circle the cube around Timmy’s nipple, the skin pink and pulled tight, almost pruney. Timmy narrowed his eyes, pulling his hand away from his other nipple and reaching to wrap his fingers around Armie’s neck.

“Only so I can put my cock inside of you.” Timmy dragged the hand around Armie’s throat to the back of his neck, gripping the dirty blonde strands just as he had earlier, forcing him downward once again and placing a chaste, hot kiss against his open mouth. The ice cube slipped from Armie’s hand and fell onto the mattress, soon to be long forgotten.


	7. mini vet tech au pt. 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this was kind of an experimental chapter, since most of it is just dialogue!  
> hope you enjoy!

Armie chewed at the end of the pen in his hand anxiously, staring down at the variety of greeting cards fanned out across his coffee table, lost in deep contemplation. He couldn’t decide which one to send to the clinic to thank Timothee, _Timmy_ , for helping Archie with his sprained leg. He hadn’t intended on buying so many cards but the sales clerk at the Hallmark store had started to side eye him pretty hard after standing in the Thank You section for almost half an hour so he’d grabbed a random handful and hurried home. That had been over an hour ago.

Eventually, he decided to simply close his eyes and shuffle the cards, let fate have it’s way with whatever the outcome. He scribbled a few heartfelt words of gratitude and then signed his name.

It took him nearly another half hour to decide to leave his phone number as well.

-

Armie tried not to check his phone obsessively over the next week but it was the most pathetic attempt of _not doing something_ known to man, or so his best friend Nick had told him.

“Why didn’t you just drop the card off yourself, like a normal human from the 21st century?” Nick asked as he cracked open two beers, handing one over to Armie as they lounged in his backyard. Archie was laying at Armie’s feet, chewing on a veggie bone he’d picked up earlier in the morning.

Armie sighed. “I don’t know, man. I didn’t want to come on too strong,” Armie shrugged. Nick took a drag of his beer, hissing as the cold, crisp carbonation hit his tongue. He waited a few moments and then looked over at Armie curiously.

“What did the card say anyway?” He laughed then muttered under his breath before Armie could answer, “I can’t believe you sent a fucking greeting card…”

—

Armie’s phone rang at almost 10 o’clock at night. He’d fallen asleep in his recliner, Archie in his lap snoring away, local news buzzing at a low volume in the background. He squinted at his screen, wondering who was calling so late, trying to decipher the unfamiliar numbers until he realized...

“Hello?”

“Armie?”

“This is Arm -- wait. Timmy?”

“Yeah! Hey, how are you? Wow, you recognized my voice?”

“Uh...”

“I’m sorry it’s so late. Were you asleep? Shit, you probably were. I’ve been on call and the card you sent was buried under like, fifty patient folders and...sorry, I’m rambling. I’m sorry I didn’t call sooner.”

“Oh that’s okay, I figured you were..”

“I was nervous. I read the card a few hours ago and wasn’t sure why you wanted me to call but after the hundreth re-read I thought ‘fuck it.’ I figured if I read the situation wrong I could just call and say I was checking up on Archie..”

“At ten o’clock at night?”

“Oh shit. I guess I didn’t think my masterplan through.”

“That’s okay. Just maybe don’t plan any bank heists anytime soon.”

“Noted. That was um, quite the card you sent me.”

“Yeah?”

“I meaaan… I think. I’ve been known to read these situations wrong.”

“You’re not reading it wrong. I’m glad you called.”

“Good.”

“Yeah.”

“Yeah.”

“So… dinner? When are you free?”

“Pffft, other than right now… not until Saturday.”

“That’s six days from now.”

“Six entire days.”

“I guess you better come over now then. I have leftovers and I just renewed my Hulu subscription.”

“Classy.”

“Archie is here, too.”

“That’s the real reason I called, you know.”

“I’ll text you my address.”

“Do I have time to change out of my work clothes?”

“Probably not. Don’t want to leftovers to go bad.”

“You’re right. See you soon, then.”

“Hey -- wait. This is going to sound terrible, and I’ll explain when you’re here but.. what did the card say?”

Timmy just laughed and says ‘see you soon’ again. Armie nearly dies when he gets a text with two photos of Timmy holding the card he’d sent, the cover and the inside;

**_I WANTED TO GIVE YOU A_ **

**HUGE**  
**SUBSTANTIAL**  
**GIGANTIC**  
**BIG**  
**MONUMENTAL**  
**ENORMOUS....**

**_... THANK YOU FOR EVERYTHING!_ **

 


	8. who are you? outtake #1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nick's POV of the "break up" in chapter 5.

It wasn’t in Nick’s nature to assume the worst, so he smiled and offered a compliment.

“That sweater looks amazing on you.”

Nick looked downward at his scorned hand against his side after Timmy skirted his advance by shoving his hands into the pocket of his jeans as if they weren’t too tight for his long fingers. Nick wasn’t offended, but there was a knowing ache in his gut that told him he knew where this was headed. Maybe he’d always known -- 

When Nick first saw Timmy in the stairwell at Armie’s apartment, the day he’d brought over the keys, he didn’t quite know how to process the fact that his best friend had been living with someone - someone like _that_ and had kept it all to himself. 

Then again, Nick was used to Armie keeping things for himself. 

The praise seemed to drape Timmy in discomfort, his cheeks pink but maybe that was because of the heat from the house full of bodies, drinks, dancing, music. Timmy had asked for company to get some fresh air but Nick felt the static of uneasiness behind his words. 

“Hey — I’m sorry I sort of invited myself to the party. And Armie and Liz. We’ve just been trying to meet up all day... and I just figured this was better than not seeing you at all.”

Nick had spent all day thinking that Timmy was being enthusiastic about hanging out because they were finally getting somewhere and up until now that had been exhilarating. He probably should have known better, but when does he ever?

Timmy cracked a joke to ease the tension, the air bubbling with awkward uncertainty. Nick didn’t like seeing Timmy so unsure of himself because it was frustrating enough to decipher what was going on in his mind, behind his green eyes that seemed to be saying something that he assumed he’d eventually figure out but now he was realizing that the opportunity was most likely passing by. 

It also didn’t escape him that Timmy’s entire body shifted when he said Armie’s name. Come to think of it, it always did. 

It seemed to only take a moment for Timmy to gather the courage to say what he wanted to say. Then again, maybe it hadn’t been a moment — the brewery last night was clearly a turning point. Nick had tried not to feel jealousy burn through him when Timmy demanded Armie take him home, had tried not to wonder if maybe there was something going on between them, and if there was — for how long? Nick tried not to think about how this wouldn’t be the first time Armie had done this to him. 

Still, Timmy swayed and powered through and Nick felt his stomach twist as he fumbled over his words, his desperation and exasperation clear behind every syllable. Nick couldn’t hold it against Timmy if he wasn’t feeling it, feeling them, feeling him. 

He chuckled despite himself, his body softening as he reached out to pull Timmy against his body. He smelled good, but different. Timmy usually smelled so floral and sweet, maybe like roses, maybe like something else — but as his curls tickled his nose, Nick suddenly felt like he was hugging Armie. 

“It’s okay, Tim. I get it. Sometimes it’s just not there, you know?” 

Timmy nodded and Nick waited, unsure of what else he was expecting but when he thought of turning to walk away, he realized he needed to know the truth. Timmy didn’t owe him an explanation but if he confronted Armie, he wondered if he’d be granted one. 

“Is it Armie?”

Timmy looked surprised, confused, exposed. There was a faint shake to his head and he shrugged his shoulders as if to say ‘no’ but Nick knew he meant ‘yes.’


	9. teenage kiss prompt

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tumblr prompt for: awkward teenage crush kiss

Armie chewed his bottom lip as an empty bottle of Boone’s Farm Strawberry Hill wine spun rapidly in the center of the room. Everyone’s breath was being held collectively; waiting, watching, hoping for the best. 

Spin the Bottle had been suggested by none other than Timothée Chalamet himself and who was he, Armie Hammer — debate club captain, AV club coordinator, and junior class president of their high school —to say _no_ to Timothée freakin’ Chalamet? 

Armie pulled his crossed legs in closer to his body, his long limbs knocking into each person sitting on the sides of him. He watched the glass spin around and around, eyes dizzy with anticipation. He pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose and tried not to think about the fact that Timothée was sitting directly across from him, still leaning forward on his knees, an arm outstretched from when he’d spun the bottle only seconds ago. Armie chanced a peek upward, blue eyes focused over the frame of his thick rimmed glasses, and his face turned redder than the blow pop in Timothée’s mouth. 

Timothée was looking right at him, and he winked.

_Timothée freakin’ winked at him._ Armie blushed furiously, looking down at his hands that were ringing each other in his lap. He tried to steady his breathing but he wasn’t sure that his body knew how to process oxygen correctly anymore. Why would Timothée Chalamet — captain of the baseball team, drama club’s leading thespian, most popular guy in school — wink _at him?_

The bottle started to slow it’s rotation and Armie was sure that none of air he was inhaling sharply through his nose was being processed in his lungs, and if it was, none of the oxygen was making it to his brain. 

Armie had developed a crush on Timothée back in the sixth grade when his family had moved in from out of state and enrolled him mid-year into his first public school. He’d sat next to Timothée that year, who showed him around during recess and sometimes let him copy his math homework but Armie had never managed to cross the line between classmate and friendship. By eighth grade he’ even stopped getting courtesy invites to Timothée’s birthday parties. 

Then junior year hit, Armie had grown five inches over summer, and somehow had ended up as a student aid in Timothée’s drama class and suddenly, it was like sixth grade all over again. 

Armie liked to think he was above adolescent games like Spin the Bottle but now as the Boone’s Farm took its final rotation he realized that if he was ever going to get a chance to kiss Timothée, this was it. 

“Armie!”   
“Armaaaaand!”  
“The Hammer!”

Everyone was whooping and hollering, slapping him on the arm and shoulder for encouragement, a few kids giggling to themselves because everyone knew that Timothée liked to kiss boys sometimes but Armie had never dated anyone. He knew everyone was waiting to see if he’d give in or bail. 

“What do you say, Hammer, just a little peck?” Timothée’s expression was unreadable but his tone was calm, maybe even encouraging. Armie doubted it was excitement he detected because Timothée probably just wanted the attention, the credit, to walk into school on Monday with a smug grin that said _yeah, I kissed all the girls AND boys on Friday night_. 

Armie shrugged and everyone yelled louder. He tried to pretend he wasn’t suddenly sweating profusely, that his hands weren’t trembling as he sat up on his knees and crawled forward to meet Timothée in the middle, both of their chins now hovering over the wine bottle. Armie swallowed and Timothée exhaled a breathy laugh that tickled his nose, his lips making a popping sound as he removed the lollipop. They smiled at each other and before Armie could process the features of Timothée’s face this close up, before he could even count the number of freckles on his cheeks, their lips were touching. 

The room and everyone in it became white noise. Timothée was smiling against his mouth, humming something soft between them, and even though it was certainly only a few seconds, Armie felt like he’d lived a lifetime against those lips. 

Timothée was grinning ear to ear when they pulled back, gums and teeth on display for all. Armie knew it wasn’t because of him but because this was going to be the talk of the school for at least a week, until something else pulled their fickle-brained schoolmates attention elsewhere but that was okay. Armie would remember it for a lifetime. 

His first crush. His first kiss. 

Timothée freakin’ Chalamet.


	10. mini vet tech au pt. 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okaaaay, you guys convinced me. here's part three.  
> its messy and poorly beta'd by yours truly. srrry.  
> fictional, etc, etc.

Armie was sure he had never cleaned his house so quickly.

Well, _cleaning_ would be an overstatement — mostly he just shoved a lot of shit into the hallway closet, kicked things under his bed, tossed a blanket on top of his overflowing hamper and hoped for the best. Not that he expected Timmy to come into his room but...just in case, right?

Archie could tell something was up because as Armie basically ran around his house like a madman, he kept barking and nipping playfully at his heels. Armie nearly toppled over him when he was climbing out of the actual quickest (but efficient) shower known to mankind and realized he needed to have a sit on the edge of his bed to take a breather. His adrenaline was high, his nerves shot, and the anxiety he felt at an all time high. It had been a while since he’d been with another man, let alone on a date, so Armie gave himself a pep talk while Archie looked up at him curiously, head tilted sideways, tail wagging against the floor.

_Relax. Timmy is cute and maybe you haven’t gotten laid in like, five months, but he’s just coming over for dinner and some Hulu. Calm. Down. Don’t think about his curls, don’t think about the way he laughed at every dumb joke you made at the clinic… definitely don’t think about how wide his mouth goes when he smiles..._

Armie sighed when he looked down to see his cock bobbing pathetically between his legs, eyeing him angrily as he sat naked on the edge of his bed. _Just ignore it,_ he told himself, pushing off the mattress and deciding that if he got dressed, he’d suddenly stop imagining Timmy’s wide mouth around his dick.

Armie rummaged through his closet and dresser for a good ten minutes and eventually he decided on a fresh, clean pair of sweatpants - they were all black and the nicest pair that he owned. You know, the comfortable but sleek kind you’d wear to the airport or maybe even to the grocery store. He didn’t want to seem like he was trying _too hard_ , especially since Timmy would be showing up in his work clothes. His cock twitched when he thought about the white lab coat. _Chalamet_ is what his name tag had read, Armie remembered. Armie rolled the syllables off his tongue and when his cock throbbed for attention, he checked the time and figured he had just enough left to yank one out before Timmy arrived.

\--

“Fuck!” Armie muttered when his doorbell rang. He was knuckle deep in his ass, one hand around his pulsing cock, still _at least_ a minute away from orgasm, but it was too late now. He winced as he pulled his finger out, rushing over to the sink to wash his hands before he bolted down the hallway to the front door. Archie had been kicked out of his room when he’d decided to masturbate and now had a head start to the front door, sniffing and ‘boof-ing’ sweetly at the door frame, a little wobbly from his sprained leg but insistent nonetheless, by the time Armie had slowed down to a calm walk to catch his breath, will his boner away, and appear relaxed before he greeted Timmy.

“Hi,” Timmy smiled when the door was opened. Armie inhaled, his eyes scanning him up and down with a smile of his own. He seemed smaller than he had remembered, but those green fucking eyes were impossible to forget. If anything, his memory hadn't done them justice.

“Hey.” There was a quiet pause of awkward silence, both of them just sort of swaying in the doorway until Archie slipped through Armie’s legs and jumped up on Timmy, excited tail and all. He yipped and Timmy lit up, his smile bigger than when they had greeted each other seconds ago.

“Archie! I missed you!” Timmy dropped down to a knee to let Archie clamber all over him, licking his face, nipping at his long hair. Armie’s belly warmed at the sound of Timmy’s laugh but he knew Archie was never going to stop if he didn’t intervene.

“Alright, boy, come on, he’s _my_ date tonight,” Armie reached out, pulling him back gently by the waist and ushering the puppy back inside. Timmy stood up with a sheepish, soft smile.

“So, I brought some snacks,” Timmy smiled, holding up a bag from 7-11. He grinned shyly as the plastic crinkled in his hand, swaying to and fro. “I couldn’t find a grocery store open this late on the way here but there’s a 7-11 a few blocks away so…” Timmy’s face was suddenly pink, as if he regretted his convenience store purchases. “I just didn’t want to show up empty handed. It’s bad enough I probably smell like puppies and —”

“Are those Slim Jims? And red wine? Wow, a man after my own heart,” Armie interjected, pulling the bag gently from Timmy’s hand with a flattered smile. Timmy laughed.

“Cheap wine,” Timmy excused with a halfhearted shrug. Armie shrugged back.

“I’m a cheap date.” They both laughed and when Timmy cleared his throat, Armie realized he hadn’t even invited him in yet so after apologizing more than necessary, he finally got Timmy inside his house.

\--

“You look --” Armie started, taking the plastic bag of snacks and wine and setting it down on the coffee table in his living room.

“Sorry. It's been a long day,” Timmy excused his appearance, running his fingers through his curls that were, admittedly, a lot more unruly than Armie remembered. He liked it.

“No, no. Sorry? You’re,” Armie wasn’t sure how to compliment him. It wasn’t as if they’d gotten dressed up for a proper date but they’d also only just met, sort of, and well, was it appropriate to say he looked fucking delicious this early? _Probably not,_ Armie scolded himself. “You’re nice to look at.” Armie finished his praise and pulled a face. Timmy snorted softly.

“Yeah? Well, right back at ya,” Timmy ran his hand through his hair once more, his voice amused and maybe a bit unsure. Armie laughed uncomfortably, putting his palm against his forehead. He groaned at his own embarrassment. Why was he being so fucking awkward?

“I think I’m just surprised by the lack of lab coat,” Armie attempted to explain himself but realized that just made it sound even worse. Timmy seemed pleasantly amused though and they laughed together, awkward but not quite as much.

“I mean, I have a spare in my car if you want me to get it.”

“Maybe later,” Armie teased. “Come on, I’ll give you the grand tour and then we can get to those leftovers I promised you.”

“And Hulu, too,” Timmy winked.

\--

“Oh so you meant like, _actually watch Hulu_ ,” Timmy chuckled from behind the thumb that he was chewing on, one side of his mouth curved upward. Armie scooped more than enough pasta onto a plate before sliding it over to Timmy.

“Well...yeah. Why? What were you hoping for instead?” Armie swallowed and Timmy laughed, rolling his eyes. Armie knew what Timmy was hoping for and playing dumb was probably not as cute as he thought it might be, but at least Timmy was smiling in that big way where all his teeth were showing.

“Oh, _I don’t know,_ ” Timmy smiled wider and plucked a spaghetti noodle off his plate, dangling it in the air as he opened his mouth, lifted his chin, then slurped the noodle between his lips with a wet sounding smack. Armie swallowed again.

“I guess I just thought your ‘thank you’ card implied something other than a cute movie date.” Timmy shrugged and slurped another noodle. Armie couldn’t tell if Timmy was disappointed that tonight wasn’t what he might have thought it would be, which meant Armie was simultaneously aroused and offended because yes, he _definitely_ wanted what Timmy was implying but he also found the brunette adorable and interesting and wanted to get to _know_ him. Timmy slurped another noodle and Armie turned around quickly to grab a fork from the dishwasher then slid it across the counter to Timmy.

“I can warm that up for you, if you want.”

Timmy shook his head, grabbing the fork with careful fingers. “That’s okay. I like cold pasta.” He lifted his plate up from the counter top, then walked around the corner over to Armie. He leaned back against the counter and one handed the plate of food while shoveling pasta into his mouth expertly with the other. Armie knew he should stop staring at his mouth but it was impossible to look away.

“So, how come you asked me what the card said? I mean, you _meant_ to send it, right? This isn’t like, some weird mishap that you feel bad about and now feel obligated to feed me and force me to watch second tier streaming services just so you don’t hurt my feelings, right?” A tiny smile formed on his lips from around the pasta twirled fork. Armie didn’t even know where to begin unloading that question.

“I—wait, _force you?_ ” Armie looked horrified. Timmy laughed again and shoved him playfully in the ribs with his elbow.

“I’m just messing with you! I’m terrible at flirting, clearly.” Timmy took another big bite and Armie chuckled, shaking his head to disagree but instead of using the moment to flirt back, he explained the card.

“I meant to send a card, I just didn’t know that I had sent one that was so…uh, _suggestive._ ”

Timmy cocked an eyebrow. Armie shifted on his feet, from right to left to right again. He ran a thoughtful hand through his still slightly damp hair and sighed in surrender.

“Okay, alright. Let me show you. One sec.” He held up a finger before shuffling out of the kitchen to head for his desk in the next room over. He walked back in with the small handful of cards and dropped them all down on the counter next to Timmy, who sucked dried sauce from his finger before reaching out to fan the cards out, his green eyes wide.

“I couldn’t decide what card to send, so I grabbed a bunch without reading them and then sort of just...let fate have it’s way. So I wasn't sure which card you actually got, but I mean, clearly that worked out in my favor.”

“You wrote in the card though, didn’t you read what it said then?” Timmy was opening and closing each card as he shuffled through them.

“Not really. I just blindly wrote my thank you, signed my name.”

“And your phone number,” Timmy added in a low, suggestive voice, looking up through his lashes before pulling back and digging back into his spaghetti.

“And my phone number. The most important part,” Armie chuckled nervously.

"I think the card itself was the best part, dick-innuendo and all." 

Armie choked on his sip of wine.

“That’s really weird,” Timmy nodded towards all the cards, smiling at his success in making Armie nervous. “I like it. It sounds like something I’d do, actually,” he bit his lip, scrunching his nose up.

Timmy insisted on washing his dinner plate once he was done and after they gulped down another glass of wine, they decided to finally turn on the television.

\--

“He did it. He’s the killer,” Timmy called out after two minutes into an episode of the random crime show he'd picked out. Armie looked over, bewildered.

“How do you know?” he asked, unsure if Timmy was just taking a wild guess or not, but he seemed confident in his accusation.

“I’ve seen this episode.”

“You told me you’d never watched the show.” Armie ran sweaty palms down the thighs of his sweatpants, very aware that Timmy was following the movement.

“I lied.”

“Because…?”

Timmy rolled his eyes, the green color glinting with uncertainty but also with daring and determination. There was a soft thud when Timmy slipped off the couch and onto his knees, onto the carpeted floor, situating himself between Armie’s legs. Timmy replaced his palms with Armie’s on the tops of his thighs.

“I want to date you. Like, a _real_ date. We can get dressed up, put on too much cologne and go out for drinks. I’ll tell you where I went to school, what my family is like, lie about my favorite color because the truth is that I like every color and can never decide,” Timmy was smiling now, a different smile that Armie hadn’t encountered yet in their brief time of knowing one another. Timmy looked soft, illuminated by the warm glow of the lamp in the corner and the flickering screen of the television show behind him. He dragged his hand upwards, the fabric of Armie’s sweats bunching around his progressively hardening cock. It was obvious but Armie was pleased because he wanted it to be obvious.

“And then you can finally tell me what it is you _actually_ do for a living, how you met Archie, why you went with _blue_ when you bought your car — all that detailed, cute, cheesy small talk that happens on proper dates but right now,” Timmy curled his fingers under the band of his sweats. Armie could feel the warmth of his fingers beneath his underwear, too. “Right now I just really, really want to suck your cock.”

“It’s my favorite color, that’s why.” Armie blabbered quickly, he felt like his brain was short circuiting. Timmy lifted his eyebrow, his head tilting forward, mouth hanging open. He looked impatient but intrigued. Armie was grateful when he heard Archie shuffling down the hallway, knowing he was headed to the bedroom to sleep. This was usually the time Armie went to bed, thank god for routine. They were completely alone now, and that made his blood pump faster.

“Blue. It’s my favorite color. That’s why I bought a blue car,” Armie explained with a dry mouth. Timmy hummed and kissed his way up Armie’s inner thigh.

“Cute, but save it for the next date.”


	11. turbulence

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tumblr prompt: armie calms timmy down during a flight

Timmy clears his throat as he carefully slides back down into his seat. They’re only half an hour into their seven hour flight, and his anxiety is high.

“Did you do it?” Armie whispers, head tilting sideways, warm puffs of air against Timmy’s ear. Timmy gulps and nods briefly, pushing his hair back away from his face. “Good boy,” Armie smacks between wet lips.

Timmy shifts his hips, taking a slow, steady breath. They had talked about trying this for a while now and when Armie mentioned packing the vibrator in their carry on instead of their checked bags, he didn’t understand why until Armie whispered ‘ _go put it in_ ’ against the shell of his ear once the seatbelt sign turned off.

“You’ll have to keep quiet,” Armie warns, pulling the tiny, inconspicuous remote from his pocket. Timmy nods more frantically, closing his eyes and gripping the ends of the arm rests with both hands. “I’ve got you,” he assures Timmy before pressing down on the control, easing him into soft, warm pleasure.

Timmy’s lips fall away from one another, a quiet, languorous whimper between them. Armie’s eyes burn into his skin, setting him ablaze while he hears the soft click, Armie turning the setting higher.

Timmy’s mouth forms an ‘ _oh_ ,’ his knees folding in towards each other while he’s slowly, torturously stimulated. Each minute feels like a lifetime. Armie leans closer, reaching over with his right hand to rest his palm over Timmy’s thigh, pressing his thumb into the inner warmth of his leg. “Just save some for me, okay?” He drags his thumb discreetly upward before pulling away and Timmy can feel the dampness that’s already begun to leak through his thin, grey sweatpants.

Timmy is falling apart from the inside out by the time Armie clicks the settings higher, three more times. His skin feels like it’s pulsing along with his cock that’s tightly squeezed and hidden between his legs. He crosses one leg over the other repeatedly, unable to sit still.

He slides down the seat then back up. His toes curl. His eyebrows pinch tight, knuckles white from trying to keep quiet. Even his soft, tiny whines and whimpers sound like vibrations.

Timmy opens his mouth to speak, opens his eyes to warn Armie how close he is but just as his chest heaves with the little oxygen he has left, Armie clicks off the vibrator. “Let’s save the rest for later.”


	12. the flower boy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> here, have another mini au.  
> this one is inspired by a comic which can be found here  
> part one  
> -cpx

The first thing Timmy notices are his shoes. “Your shoes have flowers on them.”

When Timmy looks up, he gawkes, catches forget-me-not blue eyes looming over him. His skin fizzles from the resounding, deep register of, “What?” and deftly realizes that floral shoes are the least interesting thing about the customer that's just walked in.

Timmy stays in a squat by the door where he's been spraying an assortment of wild flower pots that he arranged earlier this morning. He sets his spray bottle down and stands up, surprised when he finds that even at full height, he needs to tilt his chin up to keep eye contact with the customer.

_He’s huge._

“Your shoes,” Timmy points down with a smile, wiping his hands off on his dark green apron. “The little flower on the side. I like them.”

The guy looks down at his feet and Timmy stares at his crown of shining blonde hair while he has the chance. The way the light reflects off the golden strands reminds Timmy of the honey locust trees in Central Park. Blue eyes flutter when they look back up. Timmy smiles warmly, nodding to drive his point.

“Oh!” Even his laugh is big. “Thanks! _Golf le Fleurs_. Picked them up at Nordstrom last year.” Timmy hums, wondering if he’s ever been to a Nordstrom. Most of his clothes are from secondhand shops and flea markets, which is how he likes it. Timmy glances over the popped collar of the peacoat the customer is wearing, watching with keen eyes as he peels the cornflower scarf from around his neck. He’s all accents and hues and Timmy can’t stop staring.

“You’ve heard of Tyler the Creator?” he asks.

Timmy nods. “Sure.” But he’s never heard of him and it must be obvious because the guy doesn’t continue. Timmy’s only a little embarrassed by his knowing smirk.

There’s a fraction of silence. A few cars honking across the street, the music overhead switching from Tom Waits to Bob Dylan. Timmy is only allowed to stream his playlists in the shop when he’s working alone because his mom always tells him that his music will make the flowers sad.

“So, uh. Are you the florist?”

Timmy stands on his tip toes, rocking up and down. He brushes back his recently cropped curls -- they used to hang near his shoulders but now they’re short, springy twirls that sway in any direction they please. “Yes! Well...sort of.” He blushes fuschia. “On Tuesdays and Thursdays, anyway.” Timmy scrambles to pick up the spray bottle he left on the ground and hooks it into the pocket of his apron like a sheriff adjusting his gun in holster to prove he has authority.

“I’m Timmy,” he introduces, hesitating with the expectation that the man will also provide his name but when the silence feels like an eternity, Timmy keeps talking. He has a habit of cutting people off when he’s nervous. “So. What’s the occasion?”

The guy’s face pulls slightly but then lights up, a rose colored tint to his smooth cheeks and Timmy absentmindedly wonders what kind of person could make this guy swoon like that. Must be a lucky gal, or optimistically, guy.

“Well…” the guy looks a bit dopey, far away like he’s reliving a private day dream. Timmy feels impolite as he stares but it’s physically impossible to look away. After a moment their eyes meet and the guy straightens up. He gives Timmy a once over, as if deciding whether or not he should be privy to his day dream’s details.Timmy twists his mouth into a friendly smile, softening his shoulders in hopes of earning this guy’s trust. It works. “I’ve been seeing this guy for a few weeks now and I’m _really_ into him. But —” he looks distressed suddenly. Timmy’s heart grips and his stomach does about fifty summersaults. It doesn’t help his blood pressure with how endearing it is, seeing such a large human look so sweetly disconcerting. “I uh, I think he feels like I’m not ready for more. You know?”

“Absolutely.” Timmy nods, but he’s never dated anyone properly before. Though not for a lack of trying; his mom always tells him he falls in love with everyone and everything far too easily. She worries but Timmy finds that the heartbreak that follows is usually the ripest soil to bloom something far more brilliant the next time around.

“So, I thought sending some roses or something might be,” he shrugs, “I don’t know, romantic? Like a grand gesture of my affection.”

Timmy scrunches his face unintentionally. It’s cheesy, cliche, but god, it’s adorable. The guy looks horrified.

“Is it a bad idea?” He looks around, eyes wide like he’s been caught doing something embarrassing but the shop is empty. “Fuck, it’s dumb, isn’t it. Like, a fucking McConaughey flick.”

It’s Timmy’s turn to look offended. “Hey, come on, give him a _little credit._ McConaughey is cool.” Timmy’s laugh is warm, bubbly. The guy chuckles nervously and Timmy motions him to follow. “It’s not dumb,” he assures over his shoulder with a half-tilted smile. “Roses are a bit cliche, but that’s okay. They’re classic, traditional, if that’s the route you want to go.” He shrugs, leading the way down the main aisle of the shop, his fingers lightly grazing over the buckets stuffed with fresh sunflowers and daffodils. “Why don’t you tell me a little bit about him?”

As the guy rambles on, Timmy wonders why certain parts of himself were born from rotten seeds. It was ridiculous to be jealous of someone he’s never met, because of someone he’d only known for ten minutes. Maybe he was just over tired -- but the truth was, sometimes he would be on the E train headed home and see a couple holding hands, sharing headphones, kissing the brisk air off each other’s cheeks and the envy he felt was overwhelming.

The guy the customer wanted to buy flowers for sounded okay, if not a bit stuffy and boring. Then again, everything about the customer himself indicated that he should be stuffy too. His collared shirt was buttoned all the way up and the pleats in his slacks were crisp. The only thing that contrasted his image more than his floral sneakers was the bright, warm smile that he kept breaking into whenever Timmy would glance over his shoulder to nod, show that he was listening. Timmy had to remind himself to breathe every other step down the aisle.

He stops when they arrive at the dahlias, pinching a long, thick stemmed red one from the bucket. “How do these make you feel?” Timmy twirled the honeycomb pompom in his hand, holding it out for the customer to examine closer.

When he leans in and inhales deeply, Timmy seals his mouth and tries not to chuckle, instead focuses on the different shades of gold in his hair once more. Timmy flexes his fingers because it makes his knuckles ache with how badly he wants to reach out and touch. When he looks back up, he seems perplexed. Timmy tightens his eyebrows to look serious, professional. “They don’t smell like anything?”

Timmy can't help it, he giggles. “Is that a requirement?” The customer’s cheeks flare into an impressive shade of orchid pink.

“I don’t know. I thought all flowers were supposed to smell good?”

Playfully, in the name of salesmanship, Timmy sighs. “You might be hopeless.”


End file.
